Seaworthy
by littlebitlost21
Summary: Hook finally had had enough of waiting for Emma to decide and sets out on an adventure - but when he lands himself in trouble, it's up to Emma to save the reckless pirate.
1. Chapter 1

**I've not been on this website in a really long time but I just needed to write something today that wasn't an essay. I own nothing except the errors and mistakes, etc etc etc. It's been a long time since I've tried writing anything semi-creative at all, so I thought I would edge back in slowly. I****'ve not planned anything out for this little fic - most likely a one shot unless I _really_ can't focus on my work. **

**Hope all you fellow Oncers are having a good day. **

**xx**

**B**

"You are insane," Emma said with her trademark brusqueness. He knew her face would be pink from the cold biting wind, but he didn't look away from the rope he was busy untangling. He had no time to waste and the wreckage of a ship he had bought was hardly seaworthy.

"Did you come all the way here just to tell me that? I already knew that. Now, if you don't mind, I have matters to attend to and you have to get out of my way," he said as he nodded at her to move – she had climbed aboard the ship without so much as asking permission. Nobody respected a Captain anymore. He groaned in frustration and stepped around her to reach his knife. The rope was not salvageable – he would have to cut out the knot and replace it entirely.

"Matters to attend to? Don't be vague, Hook, I already know why you're leaving. You're going to steal the Jolly Roger." Not for the first time, he noticed that she played self-righteous well.

"It doesn't count as stealing, it's my ship. I am simply… re-appropriating my property," Hook said with a grin. She pursed her lips like she was physically blocking what she was tempted to say.

"You're being an idiot! What's your plan anyway, if you even have one? Storm the ship with nothing but your hook and a grin?" It seemed the dam had a leak.

"My plans happen to be none of your business, Swan. That was made clear, don't you think?" He said with a purposeful lightness.

She hesitated, and shook her head. "It's not that simple."

"Oh but it is exactly as simple as that!" He huffed, exasperated, "Swan. I have nothing here and there is something that I need and it happens to be aboard my ship. So what would you have me do, eh? Should I stay here and be nothing more than a stray dog begging for scraps, or should I leave and do what I do best? All that you are asking me to do is stay and wait – I've done that for far too long. I've been here. I've been waiting."

Hook stopped preparing the sail to look at her. Her face was hardened – her resolution was clear. This was the end of their prolonged foreplay. Besides, he had had enough of chasing things that weren't his.

"Amongst my many skills, I happen to be a fine gambler. I know I have a losing hand, Swan. Forgive me if I won't stay to watch the inevitable play out."

"Was that meant to be a bad pun?" His resignation shamed her more than his disappointment. He had expected avoidance.

"Hook –

"You know how I feel, Sw - Emma. If you ever need my help, I'll be by your side but I can't be satisfied indefinitely by merely being in your presence. Despite what the leather implies, I don't find pleasure in pain." Hook said, interrupting her.

Her eyes blazed and she quickly retorted, "So it's painful to be around me? You're a coward." She wished she hadn't said it the moment it came out of her mouth. Before she could apologise, he smiled tightly and said, "Maybe so. I'm also a survivalist – just like you. You had better get going Emma. You don't want to keep your lad waiting."

She stepped off the small sailboat wishing that she had the right words to say. He returned to fixing the sail, his jaw set with grim determination. She had made a promise to her son that she had to keep but the boat was not anywhere close to being ready for the type of voyage she knew Hook had planned – she would have time to come back and make this right.

However, like so many times before, Emma was wrong. When she returned later that evening, instead of a boat and a charming pirate she found an empty dock.


	2. Chapter 2

**So I guess I didn't do a proper one-shot since it didn't have a resolution. Thank you all for reading and sending feedback. I guess maybe one more chapter after this to give it an ending without dragging on too much. I suppose it's a bit AU now – let's just say its set after everyone returns to Storybrooke post-Pan, post-Curse 2.0. I won't go too far into specifics because that will just get really long. To those who sent in reviews and followed the story, thank you. You're all lovely and are the reason why I continued. Thank you again guys. Let's see where this takes us. **

**Meanwhile I've done exactly no work on my uni assignment worth 30% of my grade. I **_**need**_** to sort out my priorities.**

**xx**

**B**

* * *

Now this was his element; out on the open sea, the salt stinging his eyes, the sun browning his skin. Of course, he would have preferred to be experiencing this particularly fine day on a ship which wasn't in near constant threat of being capsized. That's not to say the courageous pirate was afraid of the danger, in fact it fuelled him – but pirates are a generally resourceful lot. Even one of his lesser contemporaries managed to escape a deserted island with only two sea turtles and a rope made from his own back hair. Hook would find what he was looking for, of course, without resorting to such an unattractive tactic. Then, Killian Jones would finally go home.

He felt pleased with himself for managing to pass almost an entire day without thinking about what Emma was doing, what she was thinking, whether she was wearing that red leather jacket she was so fond of. He completely disregarded that irritating voice which wondered if she was missing him at all. Killian had been on the seas for several weeks looking for the small island, which according to his compass and the coveted map, would be half a day ahead if the wind kept speed.

Satisfied that his little sailboat wouldn't sink for the time being, Killian sat on the deck and shrugged off his large leather overcoat and vest. Suddenly, his hand quickly snapped to the pocket of his white shirt as he frantically searched. "No… No, no, where did it go?" he murmured, until with relief, he found his flask in the pocket of his tossed overcoat. He had rum! Saluting the sky with his flask, Killian took a swig just as he noticed a glimmering shoreline right on the horizon.

"Land, ho." he grinned.

* * *

It had been two long months since Emma had accosted Hook at the dock. She had meant to ask him not to recklessly dive into danger because she was scared for him. Instead, Emma had gotten carried away and said things she didn't mean and he had left – on his own - without so much as a decent goodbye. One thing particularly gnawed at her; she knew that Hook wasn't a coward. In fact, he was one of the bravest men she knew, which carried some weight in a town filled with courageous princes and knights literally ripped from fairytales.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret called from her booth in Granny's Diner as Emma walked in, shaking the rain off her jacket. The sudden change in weather had dampened Emma's melancholy mood but hadn't diminished her mother's natural cheer. There was a mug of hot chocolate with cinnamon already waiting for Emma at the table. Although this wasn't unusual for the Charmings, it prompted Emma to realise, in her usual way, that there was something her mother had to tell her and it certainly would not be good.

Heaving a large sigh, she sat down and got to it. "What's wrong, Mary Margaret?" she asked.

Mary Margaret's bright smile faltered. "We had a message this morning." The silence was agitating as Mary Margaret struggled to search for the right words. She likely would have opened and closed her mouth like a fish indefinitely if Emma had not asked, "Well, what did it say?"

"It wasn't so much what it said as much as what it was."

Mary Margaret reached into her bag and took out a package wrapped in black fabric. She placed it on the table. Emma looked at her mother questioningly. Gingerly, she pulled back the fabric to reveal a silver hook.

Mary Margaret looked at her strong, beautiful daughter. She could see Emma, who had spent several weeks in quiet introspection, visibly try to hide her worry. Wanting more than anything to soothe her, Mary Margaret held Emma's hand and said, "We don't know that it's necessarily bad –

"It's not like these things are disposable! He sent this for a reason. Hook needs us."

"We can't be sure it was him. What if it's a trap?"

"That's something we'll have to find out!" Emma didn't have to lift her gaze from her cup to know Mary Margaret would have that pitying yet disapproving look on her face. "Okay. I know. Think like a mother, Emma. You're not on your own now, Emma," she took a long sip of her hot chocolate to calm herself. "How did it get here?" she tried again.

"I wish I knew. It was left by our door, along with this," she said as she withdrew an aged piece of fabric with a fading and hastily scrawled '_Emma' _written on the back. Emma couldn't help but roll her eyes when she flipped the fabric over. It was a map, complete with an 'X'.

"You know I have to help him," she said, glancing at her concerned mother.

"No, you don't have to do anything. Hook can handle himself. Besides, how do you plan on finding him?"

"Mary Margaret! This is a map. I'll find someone in this town who was a sailor once upon a time and we'll start there." Emma stopped as she noticed Mary Margaret gently shaking her head. "Do you have a better plan?" she challenged.

"Actually, yes. I do," Mary Margaret had come to a decision. With a resolute expression, she reached behind her neck and undid the clasp of her necklace that carried a ring. Removing it from the chain, she offered it to Emma, who stared at the object with suspicion.

"I had a feeling we would need this again. Take it, please. It'll direct you. The gem will glow the closer you get to him." Grudgingly, Emma inspected the beautiful green and silver ring. She pursed her lips. She knew what ring this was.

"I thought this little homing device was programmed to find you?" Emma said lightly.

"You remembered," Mary Margaret smiled, warmth renewed, "It was but Rumplestiltskin had a debt to pay. This," she said, gesturing towards the ring, "just so happened to be the price."

For the first time in weeks, Emma gave her mother an honest smile.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Mary Margaret asked, disregarding what her husband had told her that morning. Somehow, tests of character seemed far safer in their old world.

"No. It's addressed to me," she said as she inspected the map, "and we can't all go. The town is rebuilding and needs you and David. Regina can take care of Henry – it's her week with him anyway." She held her mother's gaze and said, "If I can't find him in a week, I'll come right back. Speedboats have GPS systems right?"

Mary Margaret grabbed her arm as Emma stood up to leave and asked, "What should I tell Neal?"

"Tell him the truth," Emma shrugged. She didn't think she would need to explain this, "I'm helping a friend – one who saved all of our asses not too long ago." She ignored the disbelieving look on her mother's face. Hook was her friend, even if he didn't want to be. Emma thanked her mother and left; she needed to pack and see her son. There wasn't time to waste, after all.

She had a particularly irksome pirate to save.


End file.
